WednesdayMar 18, 2026
Quotes: 53419 Authors: 9969
John Greenleaf Whittier (December 17, 1807 - September 7, 1892) was an American Quaker poet and forceful advocate of the abolition of slavery in the United States.
Method goes far to prevent trouble in business: for it makes the task easy, hinders confusion, saves abundance of time, and instructs those that have business depending, both what to do and what to hope.
As a small businessperson, you have no greater leverage than the truth.
To worship rightly is to love each other, each smile a hymn, each kindly deed a prayer.
Unknown to her the rigid rule, The dull restraint, the chiding frown The weary torture of the school, The taming of wild nature down.
Speak out in acts; the time for words has passed, And only deeds will suffice.
Shoot if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag', she said.
Dear Lord and Father of mankind, Forgive our foolish ways.
Our fellow-countrymen in chains! Slaves - in a land of light and law! Slaves - crouching on the very plains Where rolled the storms of Freedom's war!
But, by all thy nature's weakness, Hidden faults and follies known, Be thou, in rebuking evil, Conscious of thine own.
Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease; Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.
Bathsheba! to whom none ever said scat No worthier cat Ever sat on a mat, Or caught a rat. Requiescat!
He is wisest, who only gives, True to himself, the best he can: Who drifting on the winds of praise, The inward monitor obeys. And with the boldness that confuses fear Takes in the crowded sail, and lets his conscience steer.
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!
God is good and God is light In this faith I rest secure, Evil can but serve the right, Over all shall love endure.
I pray for faith, I long to trust; I listen with my heart, and hear A Voice without a sound: 'Be just, Be true, be merciful, revere The Word within thee: God is near! 'A light to sky and earth unknown Pales all their lights: a mightier force Than theirs the powers of Nature own, And, to its goal as at its source, His Spirit moves the Universe. 'Believe and trust. Through stars and suns, Through life and death, through soul and sense, His wise, paternal purpose runs; The darkness of His providence Is star-lit with benign intents.' O joy supreme! I know the Voice Like none beside on earth or sea; Yea, more, O soul of mine, rejoice, By all that He requires of me, I know what God himself must be.... I fear no more. The clouded face Of Nature smiles; through all her things Of time and space and sense I trace The moving of the Spirits wings, And hear the song of hope she sings.
We live by faith; but Faith is not the slave Of text and legend. Reasons voice and Gods, Natures and Dutys, never are at odds. What asks our Father of His children, save Justice and mercy and humility, A reasonable service of good deeds, Pure living, tenderness to human needs, Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see The Masters footprints in our daily ways? No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife, But the calm beauty of an ordered life Whose very breathing is unworded praise! A life that stands as all true lives have stood Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good.
I know not where His islands lift Their fronded palms in air; I only know I cannot drift Beyond His love and care.
God is and all is well.
God's ways seem dark, but, soon or late, They touch the shining hills of day; The evil cannot brook delay, The good can well afford to wait, Give ermined knaves their hour of crime; Yet have the future grand and great, The safe appeal of Truth to Time!
The green earth sends her incense up. From many a mountain shrine; From folded leaf and dewey cup She pours her sacred wine.
Give lettered pomp to teeth of Time, So 'Bonnie Doon' but tarry; Blot out the epic's stately rhyme, But spare his 'Highland Mary!'
The hope of all who suffer, The dread of all who wrong.
The tissue of the Life to be we weave with colors all our own, And in the field of Destiny we reap as we have sown.
For of all sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It might have been!'
For still the new transcends the old In signs and tokens manifold; Slaves rise up men; the olive waves, With roots deep set in battle graves!
Low stir of leaves and dip of oars And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
Making their lives a prayer.
No longer forward nor behind I look in hope or fear; But grateful, take the good I find, the best of now and here.
And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.
No cloud above, no earth below, A universe of sky and snow.
Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants at tree, is more than all.
Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.
The age is dull and mean. Men creep, Not walk; with blood too pale and tame To pay the debt they owe to shame; Buy cheap, sell dear; eat. drink, and sleep down-pillowed, deaf to moaning want; Pay tithes for soul-insurance; keep Six days to Mammon, one to Cant
This is truth the poet sings ...
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